My Kingdom Come
by intrajanelle
Summary: While visiting his brother in the hospital, Dean Winchester meets a sick boy named Castiel. The trio become good friends, just in time for one of them to reveal a fatal secret. AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I got the idea for this AU through several graphics of Castiel and the autistic man's heaven from The Man Who Would be King (6x20). In this AU Castiel is human and the boys aren't hunters, supernatural beings don't exist. Cas and Dean are 13, Sam is 9. Any and all medical facts are either made up or from medical websites so please take it easy on me, this fic is mostly about the boys anyway and the medical facts are there for dramatization, if anything. There should be about 20 chapters if I follow my plot to a T, and I have 3 pre-written so I hope to update fairly frequently. Please enjoy.

Warnings: cancer, character death, swearing, mentions of religion and beliefs (very brief), abandonment.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Summary: While visiting his brother in the hospital, Dean Winchester meets a sick boy named Castiel. Through hospital pranks, late night movie marathons and the harsh hand of reality the trio become good friends, just in time for one of them to reveal a fatal secret.

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_My Kingdom Come by intrajanelle_

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Chapter 1:

Castiel's favorite part of the hospital is the Autistic Research wing. On Tuesday afternoons when he's free from the poking and prodding of his numerous doctors he sneaks up the stairs while the nurse's at the station are busy collecting their third cups of coffee. He ghosts his way through the halls, his white robes and even whiter skin blending into his surroundings. The only thing that stands out is his unruly brown hair that hangs low over his eyes. He pushes it back with his fingers and slides into a chair in the visitor center.

Every Tuesday afternoon Charlie McDonald, born 1953, will sit across from him and spend the majority of his time staring out the window at the blue sky and puffy white clouds floating above the Boston harbor.

"I'm Charlie McDonald, born 1953," the man says once he notices Castiel sitting across from him.

"Castiel," Cas says back, tucking his hands under his legs and staring at the peaceful way Charlie's eyes seem to stare past him as he speaks.

"Like the angel," Charlie says. He says the same thing every week. An introduction, "like the angel" and then he turns to stare out the window again.

Every week Castiel asks him one question. "What are you looking at?"

Charlie doesn't answer him until the last week of February when the harbor is frozen and snowflakes twirl from ashen clouds.

"What are you looking at?" Cas says, not expecting an answer. He's getting to his feet, thirty minutes later, preparing to sneak downstairs to his room before the nurses can make a fuss, when Charlie clears his throat.

"My kite," the man says, without looking away from the window.

Cas spares a glance outside, then one more back at Charlie and he nods solemnly, before heading back to his room.

Its later that week, a Friday, when Cas catches his first glance of Dean Winchester.

Cas is wandering his floor, nibbling on a piece of stale toast that had been on his breakfast tray. He hadn't been hungry but the toast made his stomach hurt less and it felt good to hold something in his hands, so he chewed it slowly. He ambles around a corner, expecting to see the morning nurses trading shifts with the afternoon nurses, or perhaps Mr. Gabriel the janitor heading down the hall to fix the toilet in room 3004-when he hears a shout.

The ward is often so quiet that Cas can hear his slippers sliding along the linoleum tiles but there seems to be someone who this silence bothers enough for them to interrupt it.

There is more shouting, a garbled and indistinct scream that is immediately followed by a choked sob and Cas follows the sound to the end of the hall. A large man with a full beard and scruffy dark hair is leaning over a boy Cas' age, maybe 13-14, pulling him into a hug. The boy is the one shouting, he's pushing against the man, struggling but not out of panic or anger, its desperation.

The boy's hair is slicked back from his face, his cheeks are stained with sluggish tears and his skin is entirely red as if he has a fever.

"No, no, no," Cas hears the boy say, this time his words more coherent as he ceases struggling against the older man and falls into his chest.

"Dean," the older man says, "Dean I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

But the boy is quiet now except for the sobs that wrack his thin frame as he clings to the man.

Cas begins to get the distinct feeling that he is witnessing something private and he scoots back down the hall silently, watching the pair from around the corner before turning in the direction of his room.

"Castiel," a stern voice says as he walks straight into a robust stomach and practically falls backwards.

"Doctor Zachariah," Cas says, stammering as he drops the last of his toast on the floor between them. "I was just going back, I promise."

"See that you do, we have an appointment in ten minutes. I want to take some blood samples. Tell me you've eaten more than that," the doctor says, pointing to the crust on the floor.

"Oh, yes, I ate, Doctor Zachariah," Cas says simply, itching to leave before the doctor can glean the truth from him.

Zachariah sighs and kneels in front of Cas, his eyes suddenly in line with the boys. Cas is short for his age, barely 4 and a half feet and as thin as a scarecrow. The doctor places a hand on the boys bone-thin shoulder and squeezes.

"You can call me Uncle Zach, Castiel, we've talked about this," Zachariah says, large eyes curved into a frown. "Your father would like that."

"Yes Doc-Uncle," Cas says, licking his lips.

Its a long moment before Zachariah removes his hand from Cas' shoulder and stands to stride down the hall. Cas is still for a further moment mulling over the words 'your father would like that' before he shakes his head, hair spilling over his eyes as he walks purposefully to his room. He isn't calm again until he's settled on his cot, hiding his uneaten breakfast under his mattress before Zachariah can come in and see he hasn't eaten for the fourth day in a row.

The weekend is uneventful, as it usually is in the east wing of Children's Hospital.

The night-shift nurse sneaks Cas a cheeseburger on Friday evening and he eats it in nibbles over the next two days, sneaking it underneath his robe as he scours the hospital for something to do. The TV in the playroom is broken, white and black dots fizzing across the screen whenever he turns it on, and all the board games are designed for more than one player. Castiel finds this a little unfair. He can't understand why board-game makers weren't prepared for their games to be played by a sick boy, all alone on a Saturday afternoon. It isn't that preposterous of a scenario, really.

On Sunday Castiel learns that there is a new kid at the end of the hall. His name is Sam.

Cas knows this because he sees his favorite nurse, Meg, start her afternoon rounds with two lunch trays instead of just one; and when he asks her who the second one is for she replies, "Samuel," with a smile before heading toward the open door at the end of the hall.

"Jealous Castiel?" Meg asks a moment later when she's setting Cas' tray at the end of his bed.

"Huh?" Cas asks in response, quirking his head to the side in confusion.

"Of sharing the attention," Meg says, ruffling Cas' hair before yanking the cover off his lunch tray. "You've never had another kid on this floor, always had everyone's attention to yourself."

Cas shrugs, his stomach turning slightly at the sight of the gravy on his plate. He doesn't think he'll ever be hungry enough to stomach something other than a cheeseburger for the rest of his life. "I think it might be interesting," Cas says.

"Interesting," Meg huffs, placing her hands on her hips, "any other kid might say 'fun' or 'cool', but interesting, huh? Y'know it would be interesting if you finished your mashed potatoes this time, instead of hiding them under your mattress when Zachariah comes around."

Meg spares him one more shake of her head before collecting the cover of his tray and his laundry and heading down the hall.

Cas tries to imagine what Sam looks like as he hides his uneaten chicken dinner in the top drawer of his nightstand.

Its Monday when things begin to get interesting. The morning passes by without anything out of the ordinary and the hours stretch into the afternoon. Meg brings Cas lunch, regales him for switching hiding spots and tells him that if isn't going to eat-to throw his tray in the trash. Eventually, Cas gets bored staring out the window at the snow that falls in a thick curtain over the city and goes in search of something to do before his afternoon appointment with Zachariah.

He finds himself standing beside the nurses station. The ward is shaped in a lazy 'L' with the playroom at the end of the hall on his side of the 'L', the nurses station centered at the 'L's' axis and Sam's room on the other end, tucked at the very tip of the 'L' closest to the ward's exit. Castiel stands beside the nurses's station, his dark hair poking just over the top of the counter, enough so that after a moment one of the nurses peeks down at him and asks, "Sweetie? Are you alright?"

Cas looks up at her but doesn't answer. Meg looks over at both of them from where she's sitting at her desk and says, "Leave him, he's just mustering the courage to introduce himself to our new guest."

The other nurse nods uncertainly before sliding down into her chair and Cas stands, rooted in place for another moment before slowly inching his way down the corridor. The door at the end of the hall, Sam's door, is open, and there's someone inside whispering. The voice is so low and indistinct that Cas thinks it could someone on television, if only there were televisions in the rooms of this ward. But Cas doesn't have one and he doesn't think Sam has one and Cas is feet from the open door before the voice becomes steadily louder. Its like someone has their thumb stuck on the 'volume +' button only Cas knows its not a TV for certain this time.

He knows that voice.

Cas is standing in front of the door-almost, his foot is in front of the door really, the rest of him is still in the hall frightened that this entire venture has been a terrible terrible mistake-when a figure launches itself from the room and tackles Cas to the ground.

"Sorry, man, Jesus fucking Christ are you okay?"

There's a hand reaching down for him but Cas is still reeling from being knocked to the floor, his chest practically bursts from the breathing. He hasn't had such excitement in a long time. He thinks he sees three hands now, instead of one, reaching for him, so he shakes his head to clear his vision and tries to let his eyes settle on the face of his attacker.

"Dean."

"Sorry?" Dean asks, leaning forward, eyes wrinkling. "Speak up, man, you okay?"

Dean's eyes wander to the nurses station as if he plans on calling for help.

"Yeah, I'm fine, fine," Cas says finally grasping Dean's hand and allowing himself to be pulled up. He feels strange for a moment once he's standing, as if he should be the one doing the pulling, as if Dean should be the one he's picking up from the ground. It would make a better first impression, certainly.

Dean puts a hand on Cas' shoulder to steady him. "Listen, man, you sure you're okay? I was running pretty damn fast and no offense but you're kind of a light-weight, nothing's broke?"

Cas looks down at himself, a little rumpled maybe but there aren't any bones sticking out. "I'm okay. Uh- You shouldn't use the Lord's name in vain."

Dean kind of laughs then and Cas can't figure why but he likes the sound of it. Its much better than those choked sobs he made the first time Cas saw him.

"Dean?" a small voice says from inside the room and Cas looks past Dean to see, who must be, Samuel.

He's a slight, pale thing. He looks nothing like Dean with his long, scraggly hair and his pitched nose and his wide eyes. Dean is all edges and barbs as if there's a solid wall between him and everything else, Sam is softer, and Dean's shoulders soften when he turns to look at him. Like Sam's the only person who can really see him.

"Sam, you shouldn't be out of bed," Dean says, brushing away from Cas. He's at Sam's side in an instant.

Cas realizes then how Sam is limping, how weak he seems just standing by the doorway, his limbs slack and tired and useless.

Dean helps him back to bed, lifting him up, and Sam seems embarrassed but doesn't say anything about it. As if he's used to Dean's coddling.

"I thought you were gonna get yourself lunch? You need to eat," Sam says, poking Dean's shoulder. "You're losing muscle dude, you're a shrimp."

And Cas wonders if maybe he has it wrong. Maybe the coddling isn't as one-sided as he first imagined.

"Says the shrimp," Dean chuckles. It doesn't sound very genuine, in fact Dean's face is more pinched than Cas imagines any 13 year olds face should be. "I was gonna, but I ran-literally-into this dude. Name's- sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Castiel," Cas says before he can help it. "Cas."

"Huh, weird name. I'm Dean, this is Sammy," Dean says placing a hand on Sam's arm.

Sam whacks it away. "I can introduce myself. It's Sam."

Cas nods and for an awkward moment he doesn't know what to do next. He's still standing in the doorway, hands twitching. He hasn't held a conversation with someone his age in a long time and he doesn't know what to say to keep it going. He doesn't want to leave. He doesn't want this chance to slip through his fingers.

"You a patient here Cas?" Dean asks, gesturing to his blue robes.

Cas is startled for a moment, startled that the decision has been taken out of his hands. Cas isn't good at conversations, but Dean seems to be.

"Yes, I'm right down the hall. I- uh, I noticed you. I noticed you came earlier and I wanted to say hi."

"There aren't many other patients," Sam says before Dean can jump in. "You want to be friends, Castiel?"

He says Castiel and Cas can't remember the last time someone said his name so comfortably. It doesn't sound like when Zachariah says it, the syllables hard and bitter on his tongue, like its a curse. He doesn't say it like Meg says it, as a joke, on the edge of a laugh. He says it like his name means something important.

Castiel wants to nod adamantly, to take Sam's hand and shake it, and Dean's too for good measure, and promise he'll be the best friend Sam could ask for. He hasn't had a friend in a long, long time, not really, if Meg wasn't counted.

In his defense Cas does begin to nod, the 'Yes, yes please' is on the tip of his tongue when Zachariah's hand finds his shoulder.

"Excuse me, I have to borrow Castiel for his check-up," Zachariah says, and Cas knows he's smiling that stupid plastic smile of his, because Zachariah hates children more than Meg hates cleaning the food out of Cas' hiding places.

"Bye Cas!" Dean says and Sam's saying, "Come by again soon," as Zachariah drags the door shut behind them.

That afternoon Zachariah sits Cas down and tells him he has six months to live.

Cas isn't listening, he's imagining kites and cheeseburgers and Winchesters and trying to determine how 'soon' could be implied from 'come by again soon'.

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_I still haven't decided who's going to live and die in this fic. Reviews may help sway me._

_I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and please review! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews, please enjoy.

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Chapter 2:

That night, Meg slams his dinner tray beside his bed with more force than Cas has ever seen her display. When he looks up her eyes are red and narrowed and wet. He can't tell if she's going to slap him or if she's going to cry.

Before he can say anything she disappears into the hall only to return moments later, a finger pointed at his dinner.

"You better damn well eat that Cas, all of it. I don't want to see any of it tucked behind your fucking pillow," she's spitting now and Cas merely blinks as she paces in the doorway. "Don't you want to be healthy, Cas? Don't you want to go to school and have friends and not be so sick? Please, Castiel, please just eat all your food. Take your medicine. Okay? Please. For me."

"Its not the food," Cas says.

He thinks he's startled her because for a moment Meg doesn't seem to breathe. She turns on him slowly.

"What do you mean its not the food?"

"Its not the food keeping me from getting better, you know that," he says. He takes the lid off the tray anyway and nibbles on a carrot stick-if only to appease her.

"Castiel," Meg says dropping to the chair beside his bed. "You're gonna be fine. You're gonna get better, real soon. I promise."

She runs her fingers through his hair and he thinks she's crying but Cas doesn't really want to think about the fact that he's thirteen and he's gonna die and it isn't fair. He wants to think about Charlie McDonald and Sam and Dean Winchester and all the things he still has left to do. Its all he can think about.

Its 8 o'clock and Cas hasn't moved from his bed since Meg collected his empty dinner tray an hour ago. He's reading his book.

Its a silly book, a child's bible. He imagines he's old enough to read the real bible at this point but this is the last thing his dad gave him before he left. So Cas reads it and reads it and reads it until the pages are yellowed and frayed and the spine is held together with two elastic bands he stole from Meg's desk at the nurses station.

He's so engrossed with the Great Flood that he doesn't hear the knock on his door until Sam is standing in his room.

"Sam, should you be-" Cas begins, because all formalities aside the boy looks awful.

He's trembling and pale and barely on his feet, but he waves Cas away as Cas stands to help, and makes his way to the chair Meg had been siting in earlier, on his own.

"How did you get past the nurses station?" Cas asks because its past time for patients to be in their rooms, hooked up to IVs, given meds and laid to sleep.

"I'm pretty sneaky," Sam says and he smiles, his teeth are brilliant and the smile lights his entire face. He hardly seems sick when he smiles, except for the trembling. "You don't mind do you?"

"No," Cas says quickly, waving his hands. "No, no, of course not. Its just pretty- uh, cool, you got past them."

"Yeah, well," Sam says, eyes sneaking to the door as if afraid someone will come bursting in and demand he go back to his room. "Visiting hours end at 7:30 and Dean had to leave and- you know, this place scares me at night. I'm glad we met today Cas, I don't know anyone else here and I've been praying for someone to talk to."

Cas' eyes widen. "You pray?"

Sam laughs at that, throws back his head, his hair shaking. He can't seem to stop either but then he realizes he's being a little loud and he claps a hand over his mouth before he smiles and whispers, "Is it that hard to believe?"

"No, no its just- with your brother..." Cas isn't sure how to say 'your brother wouldn't seem religious if he was wearing a priest's robe and holding a bible' without offending Sam in some way.

Sam seems to understand, anyway.

"Dean isn't the praying type," Sam says, he sounds thoughtful if not a little sad. "Our mom died when I was a baby, Dean's pretty much been Mr. Anti-Religion since then. But I gotta believe, in something, you know?"

"I know," Cas says, because he does. Its hard not to believe in something when there's the deep darker not-knowing looming over his head. He'd rather believe in a Heaven than believe in nothing at all. But he thinks he understands Dean's reaction to God, if something that horrible had happened to his mother he might not believe that there was someone out there that cared for him either. Luckily he'd never known his mother, didn't even know her name.

"What about your parents Cas? You got any?" Sam says and he's rubbing the Goosebumps on his arms so Cas drapes an extra blanket over his shoulders before replying.

"A dad. He's traveling."

This seems to satisfy Sam who launches into an account of how he wishes his family traveled, how they had been planning on going on a road trip across the country before Sam got sick, how they were stuck in the city now because of Sam's health and how his father worked around the clock at a garage with his friend Bobby just to pay Sam's hospital bills; how he was sick of being sick if only because of what it did to his family.

Cas nodded and sympathized and loved that Sam felt comfortable telling him these things when they'd only just met. But the entire time Sam talked all Cas could think about was the lie that had slipped past his tongue.

He's traveling.

Well, it sounds less melodramatic than 'missing' that's for sure.

"I thought I'd find you in here," Meg says, thirty minutes later. She's rolling a wheelchair into the room and ushering Sam onto it before either of them can protest. "This isn't a slumber party, gentleman. You can continue the playdate in the morning. Right now you both need rest."

"See you tomorrow, Cas," Sam says as Meg wheels him away.

Cas thinks he imagines the smile that flits across Meg's lips but after she's gotten Sam in bed she comes back to make sure Cas is asleep. He isn't.

She takes the child's bible from his hands, places it on the nightstand and pulls the covers up over Cas' chin.

"Sleep," she says and this time she does smile.

After she turns the lights off Cas thinks Meg might have counted as a friend after all.

Its Tuesday morning and Cas wants to spend this afternoon with Sam and Dean, if they'll let him, so for the first time he heads to the Autistic Research wing before noon, hoping that Charlie will be there. Before he's made it halfway down the hall Dean is bursting through the ward's entrance, heading for Sam's room.

He stops at Sam's door and smiles over at Cas.

"You're up early!" Dean says, cheery as he takes a bite of what looks like a crumpled burrito.

"Its a Tuesday," Cas says.

"Yeah?" Dean says. "What about it?"

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Dean's eyes darken and he stares into Sam's room, where Sam must still be asleep or else he'd have tried to scramble out of bed to join the conversation. Cas has only known him for a day and he knows this.

"I'm on vacation," Dean says, but its unconvincing and Cas is remembering him sobbing and clutching an older man, who must have been their father, and he suddenly doesn't want to know why its okay for Dean to skip school every day and visit Sam.

Cas only nods and slips past Sam's room, the boy is still asleep, curled on a side, his face invisible for all of his hair. "Tell Sam I'll- I'll visit in a little while," Cas says, but before he can open the doors Dean has a hand on his arm.

"Hey, aren't you not supposed to leave the ward?" Dean says, but he's smiling and Cas feels like they're sharing some kind of joke.

He shrugs and Dean smiles wider, if that's even possible.

"You sly dog, I'll cover for you, make like a tree," Dean says.

Cas nods but he doesn't understand. Why does Dean want him to stand still like a tree? He thinks Dean might not have Sam's sneaking abilities down pat.

Charlie is quiet. He's always quiet, really, but Cas supposes this quiet is even quieter than his normal quiet because his eyes are closed.

Cas has never been to see him in the morning so it should come as no surprise to him that Charlie is dozing instead of introducing and dreaming instead of watching the clouds. Cas does the watching for him.

The sky is clear and sunny but the ground below is covered in a sheen of ice and snow. Its New England so Cas can only assume the sun will last about an hour or two more and then it'll be rain again, or snow. It shouldn't matter to him-its not like he's leaving the hospital. But now that he knows someone on the outside he can only imagine Dean running through the snow, rubbing his hands to keep them warm, swearing at the injustice of it all.

He says goodbye to Charlie who actually lurches awake and stares at him for a full minute before turning to look out the window, and then Cas is ghosting back to his ward.

When he gets there Dean is the only one in Sam's room. He's sitting rigid with his hands on his knees and his feet tucked underneath the chair. He turns to look at Cas as if he might be Sam and sinks a little further into the chair when he realizes it isn't.

"They took him for tests," Dean says, in way of an answer even though Cas hasn't asked. And then to distract himself: "So how was your trip?"

Cas shrugs.

"Thanks for staying with him last night," Dean says suddenly and Cas is confused but Dean doesn't seem to notice. He rambles on without looking at Cas again, and Cas takes that as an invitation inside. "He told me you came and talked to him after I left. He gets scared at night, of the dark, especially when he's alone, especially when he's in- here. I tried to get the nurses to let me stay with him, least until he falls asleep, but no dice."

Cas was confused at first, about why Dean thought Cas did the traveling to Sam's room, why he thinks it was Cas that took that initiative, until he remembers that Sam told Dean this story. And Sam wasn't about to tell his hovering older brother how he took a jaunt down the hall in the middle of the night when he's sick.

"He's good company," Cas says, sitting on the chair opposite of Dean's.

Sam's room isn't much different than Cas' although there seems to be more of everything in it. More clothes, more books, more chairs, a laptop and a stack of plaid shirts in the corner and a stuffed dog lying under the bed. Sam's only been here a few days and the room already seems Sam's and Cas wonders why his room is so empty.

"Sam? Yeah, he's okay I guess. When he's not being a little bitch," Dean says, all sadness wiped from his face like he's thrown on a mask.

"You don't have to pretend. I know you love your brother," Cas says.

Dean flushes faster than Cas thought was possible.

"Dude, don't say pansy crap like that. Cooties, man, cooties." Dean shivers and leans over to pick at the remaining hash browns on Sam's breakfast tray.

Cas stiffens. He feels like he must have said something wrong. Dean looks up at him after a minute and throws him a wan smile, he has hash browns stuck in his teeth.

"Dude, chill, you caught me. I do love the brat, but don't tell him I said that I'd never live it down."

"I think it's nice," Cas says before he knows how to stop himself. "To have someone to love like that."

Before Dean can say anything Sam is being wheeled through the door, a tired smile on his face, and Dean is assaulting the nurse, asking a trillion questions Cas wouldn't have been able to keep up with even if he was 100 percent healthy. Cas watches Dean hoist Sam onto his bed and smiles at the way Sam rolls his eyes and then looks at Cas as if to say 'Can you believe this?' And Cas has never felt as if he belonged somewhere before, not at the hospital, not even at home, but he wants to belong here with these brothers and he can't quite determine why.

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_Please leave a review!_ :)


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